


Told You 'Bout Texas (and Liquor and Love)

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-31
Updated: 2006-08-31
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:52:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: It's Texas, it's hot, and there's alcohol.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for slashfest on this claim: RPS: Jensen/Jared Fic in Texas, please? Where it's hot and there's tequila and salt and hot, hot sex. Yes, please. Ahem. [request by rachel_shanz]. The title comes from a Minnie Driver song. This is also my first RPS ever. Oy.  
Beta Thanks: Xscribe and Siberian Skysâ€”my two amazing and overworked betas.  


* * *

“You're gonna get a funny-looking tan with those shorts.”

“M'not shorts,” Jensen mumbled sleepily. “They're Lacrosse shorts. Meaning they don't crawl up my ass.”

“Still, shorts that are gonna give you white-ass upper thighs.”

Jensen rolled over towards the sound of Jared's voice, desperately keeping his eyes shut. “Do not tell me you're wearing a Speedo.”

“Ok, I won't.” 

“You are so--” Jensen started, unable to help himself from looking over. He quickly looked away again. “Jesus, Jared! I did not need to see that,” he yelled at his insanely 'loose' co-star.

“What?” The jerk sounded so innocent. “It's just what nature gave me, baby.”

“Yeah, well, I may have white thighs, but at least my dick won't be burnt to a crisp,” he chuckled.

“Not a chance. I'm not going out of commission, just making sure I look even.” With that, Jensen listened to the sound of a bottle being opened and lotion squirting out.

He flipped to his front side on the lawn chair, sliding his sunglasses back on and shut his eyes once more. “You make one obscene sound over there with that sunscreen and I'll go Dean on your ass.”

“Oooo, threats, big shot.” The sound of skin being slicked up floated to Jensen's ears. “Oh, Jensen, oh, baby, oh, baby, ohh--!”

Jensen put his fingers in his ears, knowing it was only egging Jared on. Asshole.

In a moment though, Jensen was able to unplug his ears—not that it had done him any good—as Jared just laughed and wiped his hand on his towel. Jensen growled in the back of his throat, just knowing that incredibly hot dick was half-hard. He shifted his own suddenly too-tight shorts. He could practically hear Jared's smirk.

They were on their last week of vacation before they began filming their thank-God-it's-been-renewed second season of Supernatural. Somehow—Jensen still wasn't sure how, but he imagined it had something to do with a bottle of Jack Daniels, a promise to go horseback riding, and an amazing blow job—Jared had managed to get him to agree to spend the week in Texas.

Now Jensen was all for his roots. Hell, he loved Texas. Loved his mama's house, loved the family he had there—but he hated the heat, especially at this time of year. Perfect twister weather, too. All that, 'at least it's dry heat' shit those northerners talked about was just that—bullshit. Texas was hotter than hell and when storm season moved in, it was humid too.

That's why it was almost funny Jared was the one naked, but Jensen had a sense of modesty, no matter how hot it was.

So when he'd agreed to the trip, he'd been expecting to stay at Jared's mama's house—family included. Instead, it seemed about that time every year, Jared's folks went off to Vegas, and had made no exception this year. It was kind of nice actually. Quiet all around. Nothing like LA. Though really, Jensen could totally go for a cold caramel latte from Starbucks at the moment.

And so he and Jared had a week to themselves, riding horses, roping cattle like they were rodeo boys, their only contact with the real world through their Blackberries and cellphones. At one point, Jared had threatened they wouldn't come back on time if Eric kept calling and interrupting their rare and short-lived vacation. That had made him back off—though probably not because of Jared's supposedly threatening tone of voice.

It was midday, with the sun at its peak, beaming down on them and Jensen was just dripping.

“Hey, dumbass.”

“Yeah?” Jared responded.

“You get us anything to drink while you were dicking around inside there?”

Jensen listened to a huff of laughter and could practically hear the wicked grin in Jared's voice as he said, “You bet I did.” 

The clink of glass and a soft thud on the ground made Jensen peek through slitted eyes. Sitting in the grass were two tall shot glasses, two frosty beers, and a bottle of tequila.

“It's the middle of the day, Jared. We can't get drunk now.”

“Why not?”

“Cause, we'll turn into fucking alcoholics if we keep doing this.”

“Aw, come on. You know once we get back to Vancouver we won't be able to do this. It'll be back to weekend-only drinking. Besides,” he continued and Jensen listened to the scrape of a top being twisted off one of the beer bottles, “what goes better with Texas and heat than tequila?”

Jensen groaned, but the condensation as it dripped from Jared's grip called out to him. It was more that than the alcohol itself. Frankly, he was too lazy to get up and make himself some sweet ice tea. And ok, so maybe he wouldn't mind getting drunk. The thought of going back to those fourteen hour days—even with Jared—was enough to make anyone want to drink.

He grabbed the bottle Jared offered him, practically chugging it before he wiped at his lips with the back of a hand, thirst momentarily quenched. 

“You get the salt?” he mumbled. 

“Did I..? Did I get the salt, he asks. 'Cause, of course, _Jared_ would forget something like the salt...” Jared muttered, as if to himself. 

Jensen half-heartedly reached out and attempted to punch him in the arm and ended up getting the chair for his efforts.

“Bastard.”

“Jerk,” Jared said good-naturedly as he grabbed Jensen's wrist to sprinkle salt on it. Closing his eyes again—it was really just too much effort to open them—he licked his wrist and then held out his hand for the shot glass. He tossed it back, and growled as the liquid burned down his throat. “Holy shit, Jared.”

“Yeah, this ain't the crap they serve in Canada,” came the deep timbre before Jared let out a choked gasp as he swallowed.

“Mmmm...good, though.” Jensen could feel the alcohol already entering his blood and for a moment he felt light-headed. Which may have been why he didn't expect the sudden weight on his lap.

“Wha--?” His eyes snapped open to stare through dark lenses, right into Jared's face and lopsided grin.

Jared might have this thing about being tan all over, but he didn't like the sun in his eyes, either. So he was wearing a straw cowboy hat and damned if that wasn't the hottest sight ever. Jensen loved it when his co-star wore his hat. He could actually pull it off—not like those poser northerners who'd never seen a farm or ranch in their life, or even Jensen, himself. He'd turned into too much of a Californian. But Jared...Jared's tan, broad face, with it's slightly messy long hair, it was like the man was born to be a rugged cowboy.

“You know,” Jared leaned in, whispering the words to Jensen's lips, “manly men—they take their shots off of someone.”

He couldn't help grinning. “And you think you're a 'manly' man?”

“I think you think I am.”

“Mmmmm, maybe...” was Jensen's answer as soft lips touched his. The kiss was gentle and flavored with the earthy taste of tequila. Tongues slip-slided across and against one another, lips met and parted, little gasps of air managed before plunging in again.

He pulled back, keeping his eyes open, and slid a hand along Jared's thigh and hip. When he moved around to his back, Jared inched further onto his lap and suddenly, Jared's hard cock was pressing against his stomach.

“Oh, God, Jared. You'll be the death of me yet.”

“I hope not,” he responded, “what would I do for fun?”

Jensen swatted his bare ass playfully. “Give me some more of that,” referring to the bright tequila, beers totally forgotten.

“Yes, sir!”

Jared held up the bottle to Jensen's mouth and he leaned back to get a mouthful of the alcohol. Before he could swallow though, Jared was swooping in for a kiss, drinking from his mouth and _damn_ , but if that wasn't sexy.

Jared nibbled on his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. Suddenly Jared backed off of him and Jensen let out a gasp as his feet were tugged on, no longer sitting upright but now laying horizontal on the beach chair. He barely had time to recover before hot kisses were being planted all over his belly, heading south for his navel.

“Jesus Christ, Jared!”

He looked down as his co-star grinned up at him, tongue sticking out to taste, before it dipped inside. The hat obscured Jensen's view, but he felt every bit of those lips suck and lick and pull at his belly. He shifted his hips unconsciously, accidentally bumping his bulge into Jared's chin.

“Eager, aren't we?” and fuck it all, would Jared never lose that insufferable smirk?

Jared was tugging on his Lacrosse shorts—Jensen didn't wear _shorts_ , that line in Supernatural had been total ad lib and all Jensen rather than Dean, but Eric had liked it—and suddenly he was free to the world.

“What if someone sees,” he managed coherently as Jared tongued his navel again, his dick actually brushing his throat now.

Jared pulled back, crouched in front of him, fists supporting him in the grass, gorgeous cock jutting out. “No one's out here, remember? No one will see. If you're so worried, we'll just have to get you more drunk. You'll do anything then.”

He flushed. Jared was right on that one. When he got drunk, he tended to let his usually calm and detached polite demeanor go out the window and he would often wake to stories of him grinding against wood poles, singing karaoke, and smacking on whoever asked.

He was about to protest when hands started running up his legs, brushing at the hairs, and sliding around to the backside of his thighs as Jared crawled back up. Even splayed out before his co-star like a buffet—and Jared's eyes were very hungry—he would have protested except at that moment, Jared grabbed the salt shaker, sprinkling salt onto his nipple. When that hot and wet tongue roughly caressed the brown bud and his hips thrust up, Jensen knew he was screwed. Or, would be.

He gave into the sensations, the warm heat of Jared's mouth and then the sudden coolness as he moved from one to the other. Bare cocks rubbed against one another and he could feel every ridge catch. He slid his hands up Jared's perfect and high-riding ass, up the broad back that was covered in a light layer of sweat, up into the hair below the cowboy hat.

“Jared, Jared,” he tried to get out the words, but the heat everywhere was too much and the friction wasn't enough. Jared seemed to know instinctively though, and he slid up Jensen's body the rest of the way, one hand seeking his cock, as his lips met Jensen's.

They kissed, hard and brutal, and Jensen might have whimpered as a salty tongue traced a tooth mark.

“Jensen,” the bigger man panted, breaking away. “Can we—will you...out here?”

He couldn't help darting his eyes around, but Jared was right, no one was around. He gave a quick nod before Jared was kissing him again, awkward, as he reached over the chair for something.

Coming back up, he was holding a small tube of lube in his hand triumphantly, smiling against Jensen's lips.

“Come on, Jen,” he said, using the rare nickname. It was only times like this when Jensen didn't mind as much.

Jared slid back down, laying out Jensen's towel he'd bunched up earlier onto the yellow-tinged grass. Jensen rolled off the chair, stretching out on the thick terry cloth, belly to the ground. Jared followed him, and fuck it was really stifling with so much sweaty man on top of him. He shifted uncomfortably and Jared straddled him, instead.

He started out licking at his neck, catching all the sweat that rolled from his hairline. Giving him a love bite on the shoulder, Jared moved down further, hat following his lips as he kissed down Jensen's spine. Hands smoothed his sides, and a light pressure inclined Jensen to tilt his hips up until he was on elbows and knees.

Feeling really exposed in the open air, he tilted his head into his arms. Giant hands pawed at his ass, sliding back and forth across his upper thighs. He listened to the sound of a bottle being opened, but it wasn't the lube.

“Jared, what are you--?” he started, turning to look, but Jared shushed him.

“Turn back around. Trust me.”

Jensen arched his back and nearly came right then as a drop of tepid liquid graced his spine, running the entire length to his neck. A few more drops and this time, a warm and malleable tongue chased after them.

“Gah!” he cried out, completely at a loss for words as to how good that felt. 

The next time tequila ran down his back, as he arched, two slicked-up fingers slipped right into him, and that was just too much. It wouldn't take much more to get him off; the feeling was slowly rising from his toes, through his legs, and from his head down, all concentrating and gathering right in his groin.

“Mmmm, I love it when you're like this.” A nip at Jensen's spine. “All open and ready for me.” A little bite on his left cheek. “That I can just slip my fingers in and out and all you do is push for more.” 

At that, Jensen couldn't help pushing back. Fingers were not what he wanted. He was waiting for the cock that was sliding in between his legs and if Jared didn't get with it, he was going to come right then and then half the fun would be over. Not that he minded when Jared fucked him after he'd already come—he was able to feel every inch and bump and ridge at those times and that felt _real_ good.

“Jared, please,” he gasped out, rutting back against his friend.

He listened to the sounds of more lube being squirted out and felt the blunt head beg for entrance. He nearly impaled himself on it, encouraging Jared to push in _morefasterharder_.

When Jared pushed in to the hilt, he stilled. Jensen wasn't ready for tenderness, though. It was hot, he was hot, and the song of tequila was singing through him. He started wriggling his ass, trying to find that one spot. Jared's hand were on his hips, but they didn't keep him still, just rested lightly.

“Oh, God, Jensen. You look amazing doing that,” came a low breath from the man behind him. Jensen grinned knowing he was driving him wild, could feel the way Jared's cock twitched inside him. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

Jensen let out a puff of laughter. “I think I do. And trust me when I say if you don't fucking move right now, I will get myself off without your help.”

There was a pause and he knew Jared was thinking about doing just that and letting it happen, but then his hands tightened on Jensen's hips and a low growl echoed in his throat.

When Jared finally started pumping his hips in fast thrusts, Jensen moved to jack himself off, but Jared's own hand pushed his away. He smoothed both paws over Jensen's thighs, teasing at his balls and perineum, leaving Jensen gasping his name and _fuck_ over and over, before he finally fisted his cock.

They began fucking in earnest, Jensen loosing all track of the open air and the fact that the grass was really digging into his knees. All he could think of was _Jared-hand-ass-cock-fuck-faster-more_ , all to the tune of blood and alcohol rushing to both heads.

Jared was babbling now and Jensen barely understood it until:

“Jen, I-I--” spoken with such conviction and emotion, Jensen thought he might burst from his own answering feelings.

“I know,” Jensen said soothingly. Now was not the time to profess anything, except maybe _fuck_ and _holy hell_. That was for another time.

He bucked back into Jared's thrusts and when a hand tightened further on his hip—leaving a bruise sure to last for days—and the other hand flicked Jensen's cock head, he came with a yelp, pulsing white strands onto the towel and ground. Jared kept thrusting, kept up the pressure until Jensen was whimpering and arching into his hand before he finally came, filling him with come until it dribbled down the back of Jensen's thighs.

He came moaning Jensen's name, long and drawn out.

They both stayed up like that for a moment, regaining their breath before Jared pulled out, flopping down on his back beside Jensen. He did the same, picking up his friend's hat where it had fallen during the action and put it over the man's eyes and heard Jared snort underneath it.

Whipping it off, he reached for the bottle of tequila. “God, it's hot as hell out here.”

“Thank you, Mister Obvious,” muttered Jensen.

He watched as Jared threw back a mouthful of alcohol and waited as he took another before he reached over and, imitating Jared's action earlier, he opened his lips for a kiss and drank from his mouth. Jared snickered as a dribble spilled over, running down his cheek, but Jensen caught it with his tongue and they shared a slow, passionate kiss that not even the heat of Texas could match.

He pulled away, gaze flickering from Jared's eyes to his mouth and back again. “Damn. That was fucking...yeah.” He thought for a moment, mock scowling. “You planned all this, didn't you? Making sure you look even, my ass.”

Jared grabbed onto his naked hips again, flipping them over, and pretending to ride Jensen like a bronco. He let out a huge laugh, and winking he said, “Ready to go again?”

Jensen grabbed the hat that had been left on the ground once more and swatted Jared with it.

“You wish, cowboy.”


End file.
